


Brothers (working title)

by Charity_Angel



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Mostly Fluff, Qui-Gon breaks all the rules, Qui-Gon lives au, but not all
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2018-10-08 02:01:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10375368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charity_Angel/pseuds/Charity_Angel
Summary: In which Qui-Gon has a very near miss on Naboo, Obi-Wan is very stubborn, and they end up breaking a lot of rules accidentally as a result. All because of that kid they picked up on Tatooine.





	1. Prologue: Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> This is a taster, to see whether people like the idea. I've never written anything AU before. This particular one happened because of a conversation with Merfilly.
> 
> Please, even if you don't usually comment, let me know what you think, because I'm really not feeling all that confident about going in a completely new direction to canon.

Siri found hum at the door to Qui-Gon’s room, just standing there propped against the doorframe, looking lost.

“How’s the kid?”

She knew better than to ask Obi-Wan about himself – Obi-Wan would tell her he was fine even if he was in the same condition as Qui-Gon. She would blame it on Qui-Gon, but she remembered him being like that in the crèche.

“He’s okay,” Obi-Wan replied listlessly, not even turning to look at her. “He’s asleep.”

“And Master Qui-Gon?”

Obi-Wan almost folded in on himself, wrapping his arms around himself so tightly he hunched over. “It’s easier to pretend for Anakin. I’m so mad at him, but…”

He trailed off, his eyes suddenly wary.

“I know,” she said, reaching out and taking his hand. “Master Adi told me what happened with the Council. I’m guessing it’s kind of hard to stay angry when he’s like that?”

“I can’t work him out,” Obi-Wan said miserably, his voice choking up. “He wants me gone, then he says he wants _me_ to train Ani?”

She bit her tongue in an effort not to laugh at him.

“What?”

Evidently she hadn’t succeeded in keeping her amusement from her face. “He didn’t want you _gone_ , you great ninny; he wanted you _knighted_. That’s very different. Although, if you’re that much of an idiot, I’m not sure you are actually ready.”

“Siri…”

“She’s right.”

The hoarse whisper caught their attention and both of them rushed to Master Qui-Gon’s side. Siri allowed Obi-Wan to get in close, to grab his master’s hand before she asked:

“Which part?”

Qui-Gon chuckled, then gasped in pain. “You know which part.”

“Oh,” she said with a grin, “the second. Okay then.”

“Siri!” Obi-Wan cried, sounding completely pathetic and looking like a lost tooka kit.

“Fine, fine. It takes all the fun out of torturing you when you’re like this. It’s good to see you awake, Master Qui-Gon. I’ll tell Master Adi to come and see you in the morning.”

With a squeeze of Obi-Wan’s shoulder, she left.

 

.oOo.

 

“I’m sorry,” Qui-Gon croaked. He sounded horribly weak, but at least he was alive and conscious. After four days of unrelenting coma, Obi-Wan was at a point where would take whatever he could get.

“For what?”

Qui-Gon reached up his free hand and brushed Obi-Wan’s cheek gently with trembling fingers before his hand dropped back to the bed. The effort had clearly been too much.

“For leaving you in such turmoil, my padawan.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “The fault is mine for doubting your wisdom, my master.”

Qui-Gon sighed and met Obi-Wan’s eyes levelly. “I have given you every reason to doubt me and my commitment to you, Obi-Wan,” he admitted painfully; made all the worse by the thread quality of his voice and the exhaustion that was evident. “We had such a poor start, and… I should have told you what I intended before we went into the Council Chamber. I should have told you years ago.”

Obi-Wan blinked in confusion.

“You have been ready to take your Trials for at least the last three years,” Qui-Gon admitted, looking ashamed, “if not five. I, however, was not ready to… to let you go.”

With that, his eyes fluttered closed.


	2. Responsible Adults

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Anakin is in better shape than Obi-Wan, braids are braided, and plots are plotted.

Obi-Wan awoke to find Anakin standing in front of him, arms crossed and looking extremely unimpressed.

“I’m pretty sure Master Qui-Gon won’t mind you using his bed while he’s in the hospital,” the boy pointed out with all the self-assured confidence of youth.

A Temple-raised youngling would never have made the suggestion. They would have known that it wasn’t Obi-Wan’s place to sleep in his master’s bed (or any master’s bed, currently owned or not, while he was a padawan). Then again, it wasn’t exactly Obi-Wan’s place to be overseeing Anakin’s induction into Temple life either, ensuring that he had the skills and knowledge to keep up with their master once Qui-Gon was released from the Halls of Healing.

A Temple-raised youngling would also never be in the position of having been Chosen by a master who already had a padawan. And said new padawan was unlikely to only be nine standard years of age.

“Also, you’re kind of supposed to eat. I know grown-ups don’t eat as much as kids, but you need to eat some time or you’re gonna get sick and end up in the hospital too.

 _That_ got his attention – not the fact that Anakin had taken note of Obi-Wan’s absent appetite, but the notion that adults ate less than younglings. Where that _that_ idea…?

Oh. Of course – Anakin’s mother must have forgone meals in favour of her son in times when food was short. That was frankly an unacceptable situation for her to have been in.

“Go and find some food for the two of us, then,” he told the boy, who smiled, showing off his mishmash of adult and baby teeth.

Anakin, already dressed (What the hell? Inconsiderate brat, making Obi-Wan look bad like that) headed off. He knew where the commissary was, and he would likely be gone some time. Obi-Wan had a job to do.

The time converter in his terminal told him that it was late evening in Theed. It was probably a good time to try and contact the queen.

“Padawan Kenobi!” she said as she answered, her eyes seeming to brighten in the blue image of the holo. “Or… I heard that you would be knighted following… How do I address you now?”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “Most people call knights ‘Master Jedi’, your highness,” he said, “but there isn’t a proper form of address. However, I haven’t been knighted yet, and I’d much prefer for you to use my name.”

She smiled graciously. “I will do so when we are in private, Obi-Wan, if you will do the same. Is there any news of Master Jinn?”

“He woke up briefly last night, so the healers will probably want to put him in a bacta tank soon, now that he’s not comatose.”

“Excellent!” Padmé said, her face lighting up with a smile. She clearly saw something in Obi-Wan’s expression, because she faltered. “Isn’t it?”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “He hates them. He had a… a bad experience, not long after I started my apprenticeship and let’s just say it left an impression.”

Padme’s eyes hardened. “I see.”

Obi-Wan got the impression that his point had been made without him saying unfortunate phrases out loud. While Padmé was older than Obi-Wan himself had been at the time, he still wanted to protect her from certain things if he could, to protect what little was left of her childhood.

“Is there anything else to be done?” she asked.

Obi-Wan shrugged. “He could probably make a full recovery without it,” he admitted, “but we would be looking at months instead of a few weeks. And he’s stubborn enough to be arguing with Master Che about it as we speak.

“But I’m calling about another matter. Is there anything to be done about Anakin’s mother? As much as I dislike the thought of any slave, the idea of leaving her there is intolerable.”

Padmé considered that for a moment. “Leave that with me, Master Jedi. You have enough to worry about with your master and young Ani. But please, let me know how you are all doing from time to time?”

“You too, your highness,” Obi-Wan replied, reverting back to the formal address because she had done so (however inaccurately). “Good night, and pleasant dreams.”

“Good morning to you, Obi-Wan. We will speak soon.”

 

.oOo.

 

Obi-Wan was just stepping out of the fresher, a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair dripping, when Anakin returned.

“That’s a better look for you,” the kid commented with a grin. “Or, it will be; much better than robes you’ve slept in the last four days. I’ll serve up while you change.”

When Obi-Wan emerged from his room in a fresh robe, Anakin had found something else to quiz him over.

“Why’d you take your braid out?”

That, at least, was sheer curiosity rather than a pointed observation.

“Because it gets dirty,” Obi-Wan told him. “I have to wash it, just like the rest of my hair. Sonics work, but in water, I have to undo it. And it was getting a little loose at the top anyway – it needed re-braiding. I’ll re-tie it when it’s dry, or it will go all fuzzy when it dries.

“Come on, let’s eat.”

Anakin had done well, picking up fruit, pancakes, syrup and meat slices, and Obi-Wan realised that he was actually very hungry. He wasn’t altogether sure of the last time he ate, but had a feeling that it might have been in transit to Naboo.

Over breakfast, Obi-Wan told Anakin his plans for the day – a couple of short tests to assess his skills in mathematics and Aurebesh (Anakin groaned – he knew Aurebesh, but he wasn’t used to it, and could he not do the comprehension exercise in the Huttese alphabet instead? Please?) and then some basic combat training. But first they would go and see whether Qui-Gon was arguing with his healers yet.

Anakin gave a yelp of surprise, and Obi-Wan said that he had in fact been conscious for a very brief period last night, but that Ani shouldn’t get his hopes too high: Qui-Gon was still very weak, and needed lots of rest in order to heal.

But, the very first thing they needed to do was to finish getting ready. Obi-Wan took longer than he usually would to tie his braid: practiced, careful fingers worked slowly to show Anakin what he would need to do with his own in the future. Once he reached the end, Obi-Wan explained the significance of the coloured bands he wore. The red he tied it off with was to signify his status as a senior padawan – a padawan still completing their mandatory schooling would have a yellow binding. The yellow that Obi-Wan wore, higher up his braid, signified his prowess with a lightsabre, and the other red band was for his experience as a pilot. Although, he confessed, he wasn’t anywhere near as good as Anakin.

Then, once he was done tying off the second band of red, Obi-Wan turned his attention to Anakin. His fingers found a lock of hair just behind Ani’s right ear.

“Properly, it should be your master who braids it for the first time,” he said, willing his hands not to shake as he began weaving, “but I think it’s going to be a while yet before Master Qui-Gon is strong enough, and you’ve waited long enough already.”

“Do you think Master Qui-Gon will mind?” Anakin asked, biting on his lower lip. His face was a picture of childish worry.

Obi-Wan shook his head. “Knowing him, he’ll be more cross with me for not doing it already. But, he’ll probably want to braid it himself when he can.”

“We can do that,” Ani said, suddenly happy once more. “But… you said red was for grown-up padawans?”

Obi-Wan had, over the course of their short conversation, already finished the stubbly little braid and tied it off in yellow. He now had the red thread in his hands.

“What else did I say about red?” Obi-Wan asked, trying hard no to smile.

“It’s for… Oh! It’s for pilots.”

“I think you’ve earned it already. And, from what I hear, you’ll probably get yourself a mechanic’s blue soon enough. Goodness knows where it’ll fit.”

 

.oOo.

 

Qui-Gon was indeed awake when they arrived and, as Obi-Wan had predicted, arguing as forcefully as he could with Master Che.

“I don’t care if it takes _ten_ years, I am not going into that infernal tube!”

“You have a padawan,” Master Che said, her voice even but her lekku tense, betraying her frustration. “In fact, as I understand it, you somehow have _two_. Surely it would make more sense to be there for your boys rather than cluttering up my Halls for months on end?”

Qui-Gon’s eyes fell on the pair of them, lurking in the doorway as they were.

“It looks like my boys are doing just fine without me,” he commented, a smile cracking the stern lines of his stubborn frown.

Master Che whirled, and sighed as she took the pair of them in – matching padawan attire, matching braids, matching fresh faces.

“Good,” she said, fixing each of them with a stern look. “Padawans, perhaps you can talk some sense into your idiot master.”

Obi-Wan fought the urge to express anything at all. He gave Master Che a bow, as was proper (Anakin followed, a beat behind).

“I will try, Master Che,” he said evenly, “but I am afraid that such appeals are often lost on Master Qui-Gon. I believe the sense was knocked out of him when his nose was broken.”

Qui-Gon grinned appreciatively. Anakin snickered behind his hand. Master Che, on the other hand, flicked her lekku in irritation and left.

“Thank you, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said, relaxing now that he wasn’t being threatened with a bacta tank. “I can always count on you to look after me.”

Obi-Wan took the seat by the bed and pulled Anakin onto his lap. The boy was a little too old for such treatment and gave a token protest before settling.

“If I were looking after you, I would tell her to sedate you and throw you in anyway,” he said bluntly. “But I can’t do that, even if she is right – we do need you.”

Qui-Gon lifted a hand – a gesture that took clear effort – and ran Ani’s stubbly little braid through his fingers. “You look like you’re managing.”

“Obi-Wan said you should have done it,” Anakin said earnestly. “You’re not mad that he did, are you?”

Qui-Gon chuckled. “Not at all, Ani. You should definitely have a braid if you’re going to start training. Tell me, what have you been doing while I slept?”

“Well, I’ve been learning my way round the Temple,” Anakin said, “and we tried meditating a couple times, but…”

“Anakin has a surfeit of energy, and struggles to sit still for long enough,” Obi-Wan said, with only a hint of exasperation.

Qui-Gon nodded tiredly. “That sounds about right for a boy Ani’s age. Did you have any thoughts on how to proceed?”

“Moving meditation, Master,” Obi-Wan said, feeling a little uncertain. “I know it’s supposed to be hard, but we both manage it well enough, and I think it will suit Anakin much better. We’re going to learn some katas this afternoon, after Ani’s academic placement tests. And tomorrow, I thought I’d introduce Ani to Garen.”

“You’ll enjoy that, Ani,” Qui-Gon said, smiling weakly. “He’s a knight friend of Obi-Wan’s. Does he have a padawan of his own yet?”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “He says he’s a bit young yet – he wants to wait for his five-year to be up.”

“That seems… sensible.” Qui-Gon blinked tiredly.

 

.oOo.

 

The next thing Qui-Gon was aware of was that Master Yoda was perched on the chair where Obi-Wan and Anakin had been.

“A difficult predicament, you have caused,” Yoda grumbled without preamble. “Refuses to be knighted, Obi-Wan does, until able you are. But young Anakin’s master you also are.”

Qui-Gon shrugged. “It looked like Obi-Wan is stepping up just fine.”

Yoda jabbed a claw at Qui-Gon. “Anakin’s master Obi-Wan cannot be while a padawan himself he is.”

“That’s a technicality,” Qui-Gon said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “He defeated a Sith – he’s earned his knighthood without me presenting him for trial. He _is_ a knight. If you insist on having someone who has been knighted foster Ani until I can take on his training, I’m sure that Garen Muln will oblige, but Obi-Wan seems to have everything in hand. We were discussing it earlier.”

“Answers for everything, you have,” Yoda grumbled. “Remind me of your master, you do.”

Qui-Gon raised his eyebrows, trying not to take offence at that. “He did teach me some useful skills, then.”

“Stubborn, the pair of you are,” Yoda said. “Apart for many years you have been and yet frustrating the Council, the pair of you still are.”

“Oh? What is Master Dooku up to? I feel sure he isn’t supporting my latest accidental act of rebellion.”

“Know, we do not,” Yoda said gravely. “Disappeared, he and Sifo-Dyas have.”

Qui-Gon smiled thinly. “They’ll be running dark in the Outer Rim,” he assured Yoda. “If you don’t know what they’re doing, you can’t report it to the Senate. He disapproves of how much they are trying to influence us even more than I do.”

The old man sighed. “Perhaps right you are. Worry, I should not. Other padawans of my line to worry about there are.”

“Don’t worry about me, my grandmaster,” Qui-Gon said. “Vokara is already arguing with me, so I’m going to be just fine.”

“Indulging you, she is,” Yoda corrected. “Meditate on your fear you should.”

“Don’t you start,” Qui-Gon said. He intended it as a growl, but the heat wouldn’t come. “I’m not going in the damn tank. My two boys are looking after each other, and Obi-Wan has plenty of friends to support him while I am unavailable. I will knight Obi-Wan and take over Ani’s training as soon as I am able, which we all accept will take some time, but it does not involve being trapped in a tiny space I cannot get out of.”

Yoda glowered at him. “Infuriating you are. Watch over your padawans until you are well, I will. Ridiculous, this is. Knighted years ago, Obi-Wan should have been.”

Qui-Gon looked away. “I know.”

“Afraid you were, no?”

Qui-Gon nodded. “I know knighting him wouldn’t be losing him, but still…”

“Xanatos’ betrayal, runs deep it does.”

“He was so close to his knighting,” Qui-Gon whispered. “Having Obi-Wan so close too… He’s been so good for me.”

“Know this I do. Found yourself again, you did. Lose yourself again, you will not. Leave you, Obi-Wan will not. A sense of purpose Anakin will give. A precocious child he is. A great deal of patience he will need.”

“And he will have it, Master.”

Yoda looked sceptical.

“I am going into this apprenticeship with my eyes open and fully consenting,” Qui-Gon pointed out. “Somewhat different to last time.”

“Right I was,” Yoda said, as smug as ever. “Ungrateful you should not be.”

 

.oOo.

 

Anakin was not in the best of moods when Obi-Wan collected him from the crèche’s classroom.

“‘Short’, you said,” he said accusingly. “You said ‘short’ tests.”

Obi-Wan pulled Anakin into him, a hand on his skinny little shoulder, and tried not to grin. “One day, you will understand that an hour is not a long test. One day, you will long for a test that is only an hour long.

“Lunch,” he added. “Then we’ll maybe look at some lightsabre exercises.”

Anakin stopped and glowered up at him. “I know you organised today like this so I could look forward to that. It makes it easier to stay mad at you.”


	3. Training Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Temple life begins in earnest for Anakin.

To absolutely no-one’s surprise, Anakin enjoyed lightsabre training. For the first session, Obi-Wan allowed Anakin a free rein: a chance to get used to the feel and weight of the training sabres. After that, Obi-Wan slowed things down by introducing the traditional forms. It was a strange thing, to be teaching Shii-Cho: Obi-Wan had mastered that as a youngling, as had every other child of the Temple. A youngling wasn’t deemed capable of attending the Gathering and becoming an Initiate until they had conquered at least the first form of combat.

The change of pace, as well as the more structured teaching, made Anakin chafe a little but his enthusiasm returned as he grew more confident.

Every evening, they had their meals in the Halls of Healing, with Qui-Gon, and shared their day with him. Obi-Wan knew that Qui-Gon appreciated not only their company, but how much they were including him in how Anakin’s training was progressing.

And Qui-Gon was very much involved: when Ani fell asleep, Obi-Wan would return to the Halls and seek his master’s advice. Was he going too fast? Was he going too slowly? Should he be concerned by the fact that Anakin’s reading ability was so far behind that of the initiates who would become his peers (and hopefully friends)?

Qui-Gon always smiled and told him not to worry so much: he was doing just fine. Anakin seemed to be thriving; he was clean and well-fed, and every apprenticeship progressed at a different rate. And the academic side of things would resolve itself in time, once he began his proper teaching classes. But that wouldn’t happen until Ani had made some headway with meditating.

“We’re getting there,” Obi-Wan said quietly to that statement. “I think, at least. Anakin finds the katas soothing now that he’s mastered the movements. It’s just getting him to let his mind go quiet enough. I keep trying to think how I do it, but I’m not exactly sure.

Qui-Gon pondered that, seemingly as thrown as Obi-Wan was. An inability to meditate wasn’t something any master was used to dealing with – even one as experienced as Qui-Gon. Crèchelings learned to meditate almost before they could communicate or locomote properly. Temporary issues, certainly, but Obi-Wan and his two predecessors would all have come to him fully able.

“Have you tried manual mediation?” he suggested eventually. “It’s a rare form of moving meditation whereby you use a manual task to occupy your mind. Give him something simple, like a mouse droid to repair. That way, he has something to occupy his hands that he already knows how to do, and his mind is free to hear the will of the Force.”

Obi-Wan nodded slowly. He couldn’t understand it personally, but he knew there were some people in the Corps who found peace in tasks involving manual labour or dextrous tasks. He had never heard of anyone like that being apprenticed, though.

“I’ll ask Maintenance if they have a droid we can borrow. Thank you, Master; it’s been frustrating me.”

Qui-Gon brushed his fringe from his eyes. “You worry too much – first-time masters always do. Even I did, and I had been knighted for eight years before I took Feemor on. At least you’re asking for help.”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “Anakin’s your padawan, Master, not mine. I’m just taking care of him for the time being.”

Qui-Gon gave him a small smile. “Well then, you’ll have some practice when you do eventually have one of your own. You look tired, Obi-Wan; where are you sleeping at the moment?”

“On the… on the couch, Master.”

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said with a hint of reproach. “There are two perfectly good beds in our apartment. I imagine Anakin is using the padawan one, but I’m not precisely in a position to use the other at the moment.”

“But, Master…”

“Obi-Wan, you have a young padawan to keep up with, and it is the height of foolishness to be worried about a bed. Now, go and get some proper sleep, my ridiculous padawan.”

Obi-Wan wanted to protest further, but Qui-Gon had a point – four days of sleeplessness while Qui-Gon had been unconscious, followed by over a week on the couch, coupled with running around after a rambunctious pre-teen, had not done him any favours. He trudged back to his rooms and only hesitated momentarily before heading into Qui-Gon’s room. He shed his robes and curled up in the inviting bed. Obi-Wan’s body all but cried out in relief and thanks before he fell into a much-needed sleep.

 

.oOo.

 

Qui-Gon’s suggestion about Anakin’s meditation bore fruit. One droid had become ten, and had led to Obi-Wan roping in Garen to see just how well the boy understood machinery. Within an hour he had found and solved an issue that Garen hadn’t even known had existed on his ship.

“Yeah, just find a place to put that blue band,” Garen said, blinking at readouts that announced that his engines were now operating at two hundred and eleven percent efficiency. “Kid’s not going to have any hair showing in that braid at this rate.”

“Tell me about it. So, you think I should petition for him to be put into the advanced engineering class?

Garen turned to him with a look of disbelief. “Obi-Wan, if Anakin isn’t in the class with the seniors, he’s going to be bored senseless. He could teach the other classes.”

Something then occurred to him.

“You’re still taking engineering, aren’t you?”

Obi-Wan nodded reluctantly. “I haven’t been to classes for a while. They gave me a pass while Anakin’s getting settled, but I’ll have to go back soon.”

Garen was clearly trying hard not to laugh. His lips were twitching. “Well, at least he’ll have a friendly face in there with him.”

Obi-Wan grinned suddenly. “I’ll have a lab partner who actually knows what he’s doing.”

Garen glanced back at his diagnostic readouts. “I think I need to go back into the class. Let me know when Anakin starts teaching it and I’ll find a way to get myself an assistant role.”

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to speak, then thought on it a little further. “I was going to say not to tell Ani that – we don’t want him developing habits like pride, but it might make him feel better about the fact that he’s going to have to take some remedial classes.”

“Really? Still struggling with the Aurebesh, huh?”

Obi-Wan nodded. “You know he answered all the comprehension tests in Basic, but using the Huttese alphabet? That caused the examiners a bit of a headache.”

“He did get the right answers though, didn’t he?”

Obi-Wan glared. “That’s not the point. Not the way they see it, anyway. Anakin argued that he just wanted to be sure that he was answering correctly, and he did go back at the end and begin to transcribe into Aurebesh in the time he had remaining…”

Garen held up a hand. “Obi-Wan Kenobi, you cannot make him go into Aurebesh lessons with the younglings: that’s not fair. It’s bad enough that he’s the only Padawan in the Temple without a lightsabre.”

Obi-Wan froze. He hadn’t even considered that. “I’ll speak to the quartermasters, see if he can borrow a training one until I can get him cleared on Form I. It shouldn’t take too long – he’s a fast learner.”

“Then the Aurebesh issue should sort itself soon enough too,” Garen said as if that was the final word on the matter. When Obi-Wan opened his mouth to argue, he held up a hand.

“Excuse me, but which of us is the actual knight here?”

“Oh, fuck you, Garen.”

“That’s ‘Oh, fuck you, Master Muln’ to you, Padawan Kenobi.”

 

.oOo.

 

Obi-Wan left Anakin with Garen, ostensibly to test out the new specs of the ship, while he went to the crèche masters and schooling masters in order to try and sort out a class schedule. That was not easy – there was a lot of disparity in Anakin’s education. He excelled in engineering, and had a firm grasp of mathematics and physics because of it, but he had virtually no knowledge of the galaxy outside of Hutt space.

Yoda turned up after they had been debating for over half an hour, and promptly put the brakes on the argument.

“The classes where equal or ahead of his peers, Padawan Skywalker should take,” he decreed. “Those were behind he is, teach him Obi-Wan and I shall until caught up he has.”

Then began the debate as to who they should consider to be Anakin’s ‘peers’: should he be considered a padawan, or should he be considered to be nine years’ of age? Because he was going to stand out in either group.

Eventually, everyone agreed that on the whole he should be treated as per his age. Those initiates were the ones most likely to accept him, and the commonality of age meant they were more likely to become friends. The padawans were likely to be at least three years older than Anakin, and would probably resent the fact that he had been apprenticed without having to go through the trials they had.

They did acknowledge that eventually, there might be issues with the initiates resenting the fact that Anakin wouldn’t have to face the trials – that he would never have the thorny issue of ageing out looming over him. Obi-Wan conceded the point, although he said that he had never held it against his friends – in fact, he had been glad for each of them as they had been chosen.

Eventually, the conversation turned to something that was standard for a padawan – their going on a mission with their master and missing classes. At the moment, Anakin couldn’t afford to miss any schooling.

“Matters, it currently does not. Recuperating for some time, Anakin’s master will be.”

“And Anakin is currently too young and lacks the standard initiate combat training,” Obi-Wan added. “Both he and I will be off the active duty rota until Master Qui-Gon is fully fit – we will have plenty of time to think about this. Hopefully, he will have caught up by then and it won’t be an issue.”

 

.oOo.

 

The next week saw the two of them in class. Obi-Wan was only taking Engineering, just to shore up some gaps in his knowledge, whereas Anakin was enrolled in Engineering with Obi-Wan, Maths and Physics with the mixed padawan/initiate class – the students who were generally between eleven and thirteen (they had decided that despite the initial declaration, this was the best choice. The level was a little beneath Anakin, intellectually speaking, but they were trying to account for his deficiencies in Aurebesh), and chemistry and biology with his age-mates. He had free periods built into his mornings in order for Obi-Wan to cover the rest of Anakin’s lessons.

Fortunately for Obi-Wan, he had plenty of time on his hands to plan a curriculum for Anakin. Mostly this involved him spending copious hours perched on the edge of Qui-Gon’s bed as his master helped him come up with something sensible – something that would actually help Anakin bring his studies in line with the rest of his age-mates while not wearing both him and Obi-Wan down in the process.

And then, of course, on top of the schooling, there was the training. Anakin’s meditation was coming on in leaps and bounds now that they had found an appropriate method, but there was still a lot to do. Anything they could do in the Halls of Healing they did so, with Qui-Gon smiling indulgently and Master Che threatening to throw them out every quarter hour on the dot. (Or sooner, if they broke something.)

And the things they couldn’t – well, Anakin was picking up Shii-Cho quickly enough that they were starting to work through a few simple spars. They had been enjoying it, but Anakin seemed to have grown serious over the last couple of evenings.

“Ani? What’s wrong?”

He had stumbled over something that should have been easy, something Obi-Wan knew Anakin could already do. It was like he wasn’t allowing himself to just use the Force, and there was a look of intense concentration on his face.

“Keep going,” Anakin growled.

Obi-Wan extinguished his lightsabre (Qui-Gon’s, really, since his had been annihilated in the pit on Naboo) and put it back onto his belt.

“Why?”

Anakin took the opening stance again, but now it was very obvious that it was all wrong. He was stiff, lacking the fluidity he had been gaining recently.

“Anakin, why?”

Anakin bit his lip as he looked up, unwilling to defy Obi-Wan for more than just a moment.

“Because I need to learn this.”

Obi-Wan sat down in the corner of their training room. “Eventually, yes. But there’s no rush.”

“Yes there is.”

There was a petulant frown, a stubborn set to that jaw.

“Why?” Obi-Wan asked again.

“The Gathering.”

That was something they hadn’t even discussed yet. Obi-Wan had given it some thought after Garen’s observation, but he was going to bring it up with Qui-Gon once they had started studying Makashi. He was hoping that by then Qui-Gon might at least be up to making the trip to Ilum, maybe just the three of them (and Obi-Wan could look at getting a new crystal of his own so that he could replace his lost lightsabre at the same time). But it would make sense that Anakin might like the idea of doing something normal, something that everyone in his classes had done.

“You can go on a Gathering if you want,” he allowed. “I’m sure Master Yoda would find a space with one of the clans for you when you’re ready.”

“Shriek Clan goes in two weeks,” Anakin said petulantly. “And Aayla says they’re a small clan, so it would definitely be okay for me to go.”

“Aayla? Quin’s padawan? She’s accompanying them?”

Anakin nodded. Padawan Secura was in Anakin’s mathematics class – whereas he was young, she was a little older than their classmates. Like Anakin, her schooling before she had come to the Temple had been somewhat lacking but, like him, she was working hard to catch up.

Still…

“Anakin, there will be other Gatherings, if you’re not ready to go this time. Trying to force yourself isn’t going to help any. Rushing now will only lead to failure later on. Every form of lightsabre combat is based on what you are learning at the moment. And all of it hinges on allowing yourself to feel what the Force is telling you.”

Ani stubbornly held out for almost a minute more before tucking his training blade away and curling into Obi-Wan’s side.

“I just… I don’t like being different.”

Obi-Wan wrapped his arms around Ani and hugged him. “Very few people do,” he said, surprising himself with his wisdom. “And while you are definitely unique in how you have come to the Order, there are others who have faced great trials to be where they are now.”

“Were they padawans without a proper lightsabre?”

Obi-Wan dropped his chin onto the top of Anakin’s head for a moment as he tried to stop himself from laughing.

“No, but, as I recall, your friend Aayla was Chosen immediately after her Gathering. She too came to the Temple late and was Chosen young.”

“But…”

“And the other padawans have likely had to exhibit themselves and their skills before masters in order to be Chosen,” he went on. “Not many people fall on their feet when it comes to finding a master.”

“Did you have to do that?” Ani asked, sounding genuinely curious now. “I’ve heard some of the initiates talking about it.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “I did. I did it many times, and was never chosen.”

“What?! But…?”

“Master Qui-Gon had his own trials, before he became my master. He had been very sad and angry for a long time, and had refused to take another padawan. Master Yoda tried to change his mind, but, well… Master Qui-Gon can be very stubborn when he wants to be. He refused, and I aged out. I wasn’t quite thirteen, but there was no other opportunity for me to be Chosen before I turned thirteen.

“I was sent to Bandomeer to work with the AgriCorps. But, on the same ship was Master Qui-Gon, on a mission for the Council. Of course, Master Yoda had arranged it like that, so that we would be together and I would more than likely have the opportunity to prove myself.”

“And you did?”

Obi-Wan chuckled. “I did. But it took a long time for Master Qui-Gon to relent and accept me as his padawan, and even longer for him to trust me. He’s a very kind and patient man, but he has been hurt and his heart does not forget. He is the best master I could have wished for, even when he is being stubborn.” He sighed. “I’m going to miss him.”

Ani turned his head sharply so that he could look up at Obi-Wan. “You’re not going anywhere, are you?”

“Not at the moment,” Obi-Wan assured him quickly, “but eventually, once I am knighted and Master Qui-Gon can take over your training, I will be assigned missions of my own.”

“Oh. I… uh… I didn’t think… do you have to?”

Obi-Wan squeezed him carefully. “I will some day, yes. But it won’t be for a long time yet. By the time that happens, you will have Master Qui-Gon to look after, and to take you to exciting places. You’ll be far too busy to think about me not being around.”

But Obi-Wan didn’t even believe that himself - Anakin wasn’t like most Jedi in that he formed attachments. He had come to the Temple with an attachment to his mother, with one to Queen Amidala, with an attachment to Qui-Gon, even one to Obi-Wan himself. The Masters disapproved, Obi-Wan knew, but none of them were saying anything about it now that he was here. And, as far as he was concerned, they could continue not saying anything, because he wasn’t going to upset Anakin’s delicate mental balance by ripping his attachments away.


	4. Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Obi-Wan receives a call.

It took Padmé a month to get back to him.

“Master Jedi,” she said. Her words were formal but her tone warm. It was early morning there: her hair was done, but her face was still unmade.

“Your majesty,” Obi-Wan replied, keeping his face straight and his voice even. “How are you?”

“I am well, thank you, and my planet is rebuilding. And you? How are you and your fellow saviours of Naboo?”

He sat heavily in the desk chair, and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Master Qui-Gon is recovering slowly. He’s not on his feet yet, but he can sit up without assistance, and he stays awake for six consecutive hours now. And Anakin… He’s adjusting. He’s catching up, but he’s frustrated. He wants to be like everyone else – to be able to keep up with the initiates and other padawans.”

Padmé clasped her hands and leaned forwards, toward the holo pick-up. “He will catch up, won’t he?”

“Oh yes,” Obi-Wan assured her. “He learns quickly. But it’s not fast enough for his own expectations, and I wonder…”

“What?”

“I wonder if he would be better off with someone else fostering him,” he confessed. “An actual master. I’m…” He tugged on his braid. “I’m still a padawan.”

“That, Master Jedi, is a technicality,” Padmé pointed out. “You and I both know that you are not ‘still’ anything. You’re just a new parent. My mother told horror stories to put my sister and I off having children – we were horrific little shits, and we didn’t have the excuse of Anakin’s start in life. You’ll adapt. It will get easier. And if you Jedi have a manual for raising padawans, it won’t cover everything. It won’t even be close, or so my mother assures me. I’m sure you’re doing just fine.”

He laughed weakly. “Master Qui-Gon said something similar. That he’s pretty sure that any master would find Anakin a challenging padawan because of his background – probably more so, because at least I have Anakin’s trust.”

Padmé smiled beatifically at him. “You see. If he still trusts you after a month, you’re clearly not doing too bad a job. And I have some news that is guaranteed to cheer him up.”

“Really?” Obi-Wan suddenly straightened, which made Padmé laugh at him. “What?”

“His mother arrived here late last night. She is safe and well, if not somewhat baffled by her change in fortune.”

“That is truly _excellent_ news,” Obi-Wan said. “I’ll let Anakin know when he returns from his classes. Would it be possible for me to comm you in…” he glanced at the chrono “… two and a half hours?”

Padmé gave a serene smile. “For this, anything is possible. I suppose, however, it would be too disruptive to pull Anakin out of school for a visit here?”

Obi-Wan pulled a face. “It… That, and I don’t want to leave Qui-Gon. He’s improving, but…”

“It is just as well that I have arranged a state visit to Coruscant for next week then,” she informed him, dropping into those slightly more formal tones that were laced with teasing. “Our new senator is due to take up his post, and it would be prudent for me to visit our new Chancellor too. After all, I have not formally congratulated him on his office, and he is Naboo. It seems impolite for such an oversight to continue further.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, making his face go bland, like Qui-Gon did when he was negotiating. “That would be a dreadful breach of etiquette. Would Miss Skywalker be part of your retinue?”

“If she so wishes,” Padmé said. “I will not force her, although I suspect she will be there with me, one way or another. I do suspect that she will entirely hate being my honoured guest: that would bring far too much attention to her.”

Obi-Wan had never met Shmi Skywalker, but he imagined that Padmé was right – having spent a lifetime in slavery, having to give up food so that her son could eat, suddenly being elevated to the ‘honoured guest’ of the Queen of Naboo would be a bit overwhelming.

“I am certain you will find a way,” he said. “Anakin will be so pleased to see her. He misses her.”

She sighed. “I know how he feels. My position demands a lot of me; I haven’t seen my parents or my sister for months. I talked to them just after the battle, to make sure they were okay, but…”

“I often felt like that when Master Qui-Gon and I were on an extended mission – we would be away from the Temple for months, and I wouldn’t hear from my friends. Even when we got back, there was the possibility that they would be away themselves. I didn’t see Garen for a year when we were seventeen, and we only managed to communicate in the occasional vid message. Master Qui-Gon used to nag at me to hurry up whenever we were rushing out and I needed to leave a message, then he would tell me that he used to do the same when he was a padawan, because friends are worth making time for. I imagine that family are the same.”

Padmé’s expression flickered to something Obi-Wan was familiar with – the confused/horrified/pitying realisation of one outside the Order that Jedi didn’t have families of their own – and then to a soft smile.

“Your wisdom cannot be faulted, Master Jedi,” she told him, the shining of her eyes apparent even in the holo. “I should make time for my family, even if it is just messages. They have always been there for me, and will continue to be once my tenure as queen is over.”

“Indeed, your majesty.”

Padmé laughed and reached forward, her hand making a peculiar flicking motion. Oh! She had tried to nudge his holographic self!

“And you say you’re ‘just a padawan’, oh wise one,” she scolded him, giggling.

Obi-Wan gave in to a chuckle. “And you, your majesty, just tried to nudge a hologram.”

She made a little noise of distress. “I was hoping you hadn’t noticed that.”

“My silence is yours, my friend.”

Padmé straightened her face admirably. “Naboo thanks you for it.”

 

.oOo.

 

Anakin, predictably, was extremely excited by the fact that his mother was free, and spent a long time talking to her, telling her how he was spending his time at the Temple, how much he had learned. Obi-Wan slipped out after five minutes to fetch his and Anakin’s lunches, realising that this was going to take some time.

Anakin was still in full flow when he returned.

“…but it’s okay, because Obi-Wan is taking care of me and he’s a totally awesome big brother.”

He stepped back and composed himself. He thought of Anakin as his brother, as much as he understood the concept – as much as any Jedi did – but he didn’t realise that it was reciprocated.

Although the slightly insane edge had been taken off, he was still smiling as he put a sandwich and some milk down in front of Anakin.

“… all kinds of things. I can read Aurebesh loads better, and I can find tons of planets on the galactic map. Thanks, Obi-Wan.” He picked up the sandwich and took a huge bite.

“Oh, Mom, this is Obi-Wan…” he began, before being simultaneously scolded by his mother and Obi-Wan, who then exchanged rueful glances.

Shmi Skywalker was not what he had expected at all: given Qui-Gon’s claims that Anakin was the mythical Chosen One, fathered by the Force alone, he had expected Anakin to essentially be a young (male) clone of his mother, but he was anything but. They must have made an extremely striking pair together.

(Honestly, it lent credence to Obi-Wan’s alternative theory, that Anakin was just freakishly Force sensitive – not only did he and his mother look nothing alike, but no-one had been able to explain how a woman gave birth to a _son_ without a father. A _daughter_ might have been believable, but plucking a Y chromosome out of thin air was pushing incredulity, even for the Force.)

She was giving him an embarrassed, exasperated kind of smile. “I apologise for my son,” she said. “I swear I raised him with better manners than that.”

Obi-Wan inclined his head, stifling a smile. “He had not yet embarrassed you in public, Ms Skywalker.”

Shmi looked startled by something, but covered it swiftly. “I shall thank the Force for small mercies. My name is Shmi, Master Jedi.”

“I am but a padawan learner, Shmi,” Obi-Wan corrected, “the same as your son. My name is Obi-Wan.”

Anakin swallowed swiftly. “You’re only a padawan because you’re refusing to be knighted,” he piped up. “Everyone knows it.”

There was laughter in the background at the Naboo end, and Shmi covered her mouth to hide her smile.

“He’s right,” Padmé’s voice said, from a distance. She was clearly sitting out of range of the pickup for the holocam, but close enough to have heard Anakin’s proclamation. “Obi-Wan is technically a Jedi Knight, if not yet officially.”

Shmi snickered. “I should scold Anakin, but if he is right then… I always taught him to be truthful whenever it was safe.”

Obi-Wan was in too good a mood to let the fact they were ganging up on him rattle him. “My master will knight me when he capable of standing on his own two feet for long enough to complete the ceremony,” he informed them serenely. “Until then, he can revel in the fact that he is rebelling against the Council by having more than one Padawan simultaneously.”

 

.oOo.

 

That afternoon’s practice went surprisingly well, all things considered. Obi-Wan had assumed that Anakin would be distracted by thoughts of his mother, but instead he seemed more settled. He was excited about the idea of seeing her, certainly, but there was a kind of quietude that had been lacking. Meditation went like a dream, and their sparring session went so well that Obi-Wan ended up having to throw in some Ataru moves to keep Anakin on his toes. That in itself just made Anakin blink and adapt.

“That was excellent, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said at the end, when he stopped cheating and let Anakin beat him fair and square. “I think tomorrow we should start looking at some other forms.”

“Can we do Ataru, like you and Master Qui-Gon use?” Anakin asked, beaming as he towelled the sweat from his back.

Obi-Wan considered it. “Normally one studies Makashi after mastering Shii-Cho, but I will ask Master Qui-Gon if we can skip it. I honestly doubt it would suit you anyway.”

Anakin was clearly pleased, but he wasn’t smug about his achievements today, nor did he ask about a trip to Ilum, as Obi-Wan had been convinced he would. All in all, he was shockingly relaxed.

“Mom’s safe,” Anakin said, out of the blue as they were preparing to go to evening meal, back in their quarters. His shrewd eyes were studying Obi-Wan carefully – a slightly disconcerting expression on his young brother padawan. “I know she’s with Padmé, not back on Tatooine.”

He left it at that, leaving Obi-Wan confused and pondering over it. He resolved to speak to Qui-Gon about it once Ani was asleep.

Unfortunately, because he excited himself all over again telling Qui-Gon about the good news, it took a long time for Anakin to settle, and Qui-Gon had dozed off by the time Obi-Wan was able to return to the Halls. He roused before Obi-Wan could tiptoe away.

“Get your rest, Master,” he said softly from the doorway as Qui-Gon blinked sleepily at the bright light in his room.

Qui-Gon gave him a rueful look. “It looks like I probably should while I have the chance.”

Obi-Wan crossed the small room and slumped into the seat with a loud sigh.

“He had been somewhat excitable this afternoon,” he admitted. “Although he was much more calm earlier, while we were training. It’s almost like he stopped trying to spar, and just listened to the Force.”

Qui-Gon’s moustache twitched; a sure-fire sign that he was trying not to laugh. Obi-Wan wished he had the energy left to appreciate the joke.

“Oh, I know: ‘Do or do not’. I’ve never seen such a stark example of it.

“He suggested that it’s to do with his mother,” he added, deciding that he was going to bother his master with this after all. “Because he knows she’s free. Do you think that perhaps he was pushing himself so hard so that he would be able to return to Tatooine? To rescue his mother?”

Qui-Gon gave him a calculating look.

“Wouldn’t you?” he asked after a short pause. “If I were stuck there, trapped?”

“I…” Obi-Wan stopped and considered it carefully, rather than giving the dutiful response about obeying the rule of the Council. Then something occurred to him; a nudge from the depths of his memory.

“I did exactly that, eleven years ago.”

“You did indeed. And I am still extremely grateful.”

Obi-Wan nodded, feeling more at ease now with the situation. “Yes, I understand. I felt much better once you were home safely.”

“Anakin is just more exuberant in his relief than you are,” Qui-Gon said, smiling outright now.

“Speaking of exuberance,” Obi-Wan said, “do I have your permission to begin training Ani in Ataru? I think he is better suited to it than Makashi.”

Qui-Gon stroked his beard thoughtfully. “I can’t see why not. If he has a sufficient grasp of Shii-Cho to defeat you, then he is more than ready to move on. And I agree that he seems ill-suited to a discipline as conservative as Makashi.”

He sighed deeply. “At this rate, I will have little to do by the time I am free of this infernal place.”

Obi-Wan gave him a stern look. “You could have seen a mind healer about your experiences on Simpla-12.”

Qui-Gon waved a dismissive hand. “We were always too busy for that.”

“You’re not too busy now,” Obi-Wan pointed out. “How many holodramas can you watch without seriously endangering your mental health?”

Qui-Gon’s expression tightened, almost slightly fearful. “I made a mistake and watched a couple of those serials that the broadcast networks show during the day.”

“Oh dear.”

“I have read instead,” Qui-Gon said. “Did you know that there have been novels published about the Jedi Order? They’re wildly inaccurate and all the more entertaining for it.”

Obi-Wan smothered a grin. “I think I know the ones you mean. Garen likes to read the most ridiculous sections aloud. The tragic thing is that he has read every single novel from start to finish: apparently the stories themselves are entertaining.”

“They’re reasonable,” Qui-Gon allowed. “I think some of our mission reports would be more compelling through.”

Now there was an amusing idea. “Perhaps you should write some of the less politically sensitive ones into a format that would appeal to the masses? That would certainly occupy your time.”

Qui-Gon swatted at him, laughing.

“While I do get a certain amount of pleasure from irritating the Council, I have no desire to incite them to actually throw me out of the Order.”

Obi-Wan smirked. “Also, you’re an appalling writer,” he pointed out. “You gave me the job of writing the reports eleven years ago.”

“Oh, that’s because your reports make the Council twitch. Occasionally I feel sorry for whoever has to read them.”

Obi-Wan knew this. He was well aware that the Council, while initially glad that Qui-Gon had ceded that particular responsibility to his padawan, it was a short-lived feeling. Obi-Wan gained a certain perverse pleasure in writing incredibly verbose, in-depth reports in the full knowledge that someone on the Council had to read the whole thing.

“Mandalore was a fun one to submit.” Obi-Wan met Qui-Gon’s eyes, and they both sniggered at the memory of Obi-Wan dropping a thick, filthy book of actual paper leaves into Master Windu’s unsuspecting hands, and Master Yoda’s cackled reassurance that they would not be asked to submit a formal digital report considering how long they had been gone for, and the lengths that Obi-Wan had clearly gone to in order to provide them with any documentation of their year-long absence from the Temple.

It wasn’t the first report that Obi-Wan had submitted with certain, potentially salient pieces of information missing, but it was the one and only time he had done to protect himself. It wasn’t just himself, though: Satine would have been mightily unimpressed had he included absolutely _everything_ that had happened. And, had that information gotten out, it would significantly hamper her efforts to bring peace to her world.

New Apsolon had been the first. Obi-Wan had realised that perhaps it wasn’t in Qui-Gon’s best interests for Obi-Wan to disclose exactly what he suspected. Master Windu knew that there were things missing or glossed over (having been there himself for the latter half of the mission), but he never questioned it. Perhaps he too had decided that there was little point dredging up things like that when one half of the potential couple had perished.

“I read that one,” Qui-Gon admitted, bringing Obi-Wan back to the present. “It got scanned into the archives. It was certainly a different style to your usual.”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “It had to be. But just think, once you’re back in the field, you’ll have to write all your own reports again.”

Qui-Gon grinned. “Maybe I’ll get you to train Anakin to do it.”

Obi-Wan wagged a finger at him, but it was somewhat lacking in energy. “He’s got other things to be learning right now. Written methods of torturing the Council can wait. Especially since we really need to keep them on side right now about him.”

“Good point,” Qui-Gon conceded. “Maybe I’ll just have to go back to having everyone sigh at mine instead.”

“Yes, Master,” Obi-Wan said, summoning the energy to rise from the seat. Keeping up with Anakin was catching up with him, and he felt almost as tired as Qui-Gon looked. “I’ll see you in the morning. Behave yourself.”


	5. A Royal Occasion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a party.

As the heroes of Naboo, Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, and Anakin were all extended invitations to attend Queen Amidala’s welcome reception at the Senate.

(She did state, very specifically that Qui-Gon was under absolutely no obligation to attend, since she was well aware that he was still recovering from his injuries, but she equally didn’t want him to feel that he had been snubbed in some way by not being invited. Fortunately, he laughed, blamed politics, and stated his intention to attend anyway. Master Che’s lekku did an extremely interesting set of nervous twitches when she found out.)

Anakin, despite his new-found serenity when it came to his classes and training, was a bundle of nervous energy the whole day, knowing that he was so close to being able to see both his mother and the angel who had rescued her. Obi-Wan eventually palmed him off on Garen and Master Yoda while he was marched into Master Che’s office and given a list of instructions on the care and feeding of invalid Jedi so long that made him feel sorry for Qui-Gon rather than thinking twice about springing him from the prison he had been trapped in. Six weeks confined to the Halls would have had Obi-Wan more than ready to do something drastic: hopefully being able to leave for a short while would help keep those same traits calm in Qui-Gon.

(Personally he doubted it, although he had to live in hope. A short brush with freedom, whether or not he would be in a hoverchair the whole time, was more likely to make Qui-Gon antsy than to placate him.)

Eventually, he was allowed to lift Qui-Gon into the hoverchair, and he helped his master to dress in robes for the first time since the battle. It gave him ample time to assess how the wound was healing: the new, cloned skin made neat white circles edged with pink scars that were still raised, on either side of Qui-Gon’s body.

“It’s amazing what cloned skin can hide, isn’t it?” Qui-Gon asked when Obi-Wan hesitated a little too long. It doesn’t look like much from the outside.”

“Not if you consider one or the other,” Obi-Wan agreed as he eased a tunic over his master’s head. “If one looks at both, it’s fairly horrific.”

“Well, I can’t see the one on my back,” Qui-Gon joked. “But all the destroyed musculature tells me it’s definitely there. I’ll be glad when it stops reminding me of that fact.”

“As will I, master,” Obi-Wan said blandly, turning to pick up the heavy tabards. “Perhaps then things can get back to normal and you can cease bothering Master Che with your presence.”

“One can but hope,” Qui-Gon replied without missing a beat. “I grew heartily sick of pissing through that tube.”

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows. “And instead you impose on everyone to carry you to the fresher instead. You realise that your overgrown carcass weighs a lot, don’t you?”

His master drew himself up in his seat. “I am the perfect height. You should have eaten more.”

Obi-Wan shook his head as he picked up Qui-Gon’s hair brush. “And whose fault was it, dearest master, that I often forewent meals on missions?”

Qui-Gon sighed. “It is difficult for old men to remember the appetites of growing boys,” he admitted. “You should have spoken up more. But I did not make that easy for you either.”

“No, master, you did not. However, we have moved far past that now.”

Qui-Gon relaxed under Obi-Wan’s ministrations, giving an entirely different kind of sigh as Obi-Wan drew the brush through his long hair.

“Be warned, though,” he added, suddenly brandishing the brush into Qui-Gon’s eye-line, “if Anakin ends up taller than me – and I am perfectly average for a human, by the way – I shall remind you that it was you who stunted my growth.”

Qui-Gon chuckled. “I consider myself warned.”

 

.oOo.

 

Obi-Wan wondered what he had let himself in for en route to 500 Republica: he was supervising both his crippled master, who would need vast amounts of attention since he could do nothing for himself, and Anakin, who was only a few weeks into his Jedi training and hadn’t yet achieved the levels of serenity that most padawans could at least fake. He was bouncing on his toes, and twice he was called back from entering the cockpit and bothering their pilot.

(“Even Jedi must be at least sixteen before they can be licenced to fly in Coruscant’s skies,” Obi-Wan told him firmly.)

Once they were at the venue, Anakin grew very quiet. He had had the same reaction on Naboo, when faced with similar levels of opulence and extravagance. Obi-Wan supposed it was to be expected for someone who had lived in such poverty.

They were greeted by members of the Senate Guard, who vetted their credentials, before being waved away by the young Onderonian senator.

“This is no way to treat Naboo’s heroes,” she scolded. “What must they think of darling Amidala’s hospitality?”

“They are only doing their jobs, Senator Bonteri,” Qui-Gon said smoothly. “How are you and your family?”

She beamed at him. “We are all well, Master Jedi; thank you for asking. My son is three now – he’s grown so much since you last saw him.”

“I will have to visit once I am back on my feet,” Qui-Gon replied. “If you will allow my corrupting influence, of course.”

Senator Bonteri laughed. “I thought that seeking complements was above the Jedi, Master Jinn?”

Qui-Gon inclined his head a little; acknowledgement of her point (although the effect was ruined by his broad smile). “Might I introduce my padawans, Senator? You’ll recall Obi-Wan Kenobi, of course?”

“I do,” she said, bowing her head to Obi-Wan in acknowledgement. “How are you, Padawan Kenobi?”

“Very well, Senator, thank you. It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

“And this Padawan Anakin Skywalker,” Qui-Gon said, gesturing to the boy hiding half-behind his chair.

“Oh, Shmi’s boy,” the senator said, kneeling to bring herself down to Anakin’s level. “Your mother won’t shut up about you. How are you enjoying life at the Temple?”

Anakin sketched something resembling a bow, clearly uncertain. “Loads, Senator. I… uh… You know my mom?”

She smiled at him. “I met her earlier today. Padmé’s mother and mine are friends so I came early to see if there was anything I could help with. Your mom is quite the organiser, isn’t she?”

Anakin nodded, clearly a little more at ease now. “She’s great at that sort of thing. She’s so good at numbers, and figuring out what people want.”

“Now,” Mina stood and smoothed her skirts, “I fear you will have to be polite a little longer, young Padawan Skywalker. There are a lot of people who will want to meet the young hero of Naboo, but you’ll see your mother soon. Let’s get you all inside.”

 

.oOo.

 

Obi-Wan hated diplomatic events. He could function at them, certainly, and could even remain polite to everyone, but they frustrated him no end.

This one was particularly torturous because, although it was ostensibly the Chancellor’s party, thrown by his head of state, the three Jedi were more central in the attendees’ attentions than Palpatine was. They were in constant demand, with every dignitary present asking for a re-telling of the events of the invasion of Naboo. Some, very undiplomatically, asked why Obi-Wan had not yet been knighted.

A couple were not only eagle-eyed enough to notice that Qui-Gon wasn’t carrying a weapon, but crass enough to comment on it.

“My padawan lost his during the battle,” Qui-Gon said serenely when asked. “He honours me by putting mine to good use while I am unable.”

For his part, Palpatine didn’t seem to mind that the Jedi were stealing his limelight. He rescued Anakin from the melee, and thereafter seemed to monopolise his time. Every time Obi-Wan glanced in Ani’s direction, he was still talking with the Chancellor. It was something that seemed to make both Qui-Gon apprehensive, and Shmi, from her position on the side-lines as the event coordinator, also didn’t seem overly happy about it.

“Don’t you think it’s odd?” Qui-Gon asked once they had excused themselves to the fresher. “A man of Palpatine’s age having such an interest in a boy of nine?”

Obi-Wan hesitated, which left Qui-Gon in a somewhat undignified position for a second too long.

“I honestly hadn’t thought too much about it,” he said truthfully as he settled Qui-Gon onto the lavatory. “I thought that Chancellor Palpatine was simply interested to learn what had happened on Naboo, or perhaps about Anakin’s life before the Temple.”

“Oh, he’s certainly been sympathetic,” Qui-Gon muttered darkly. “He’s asked Anakin lots about his past, and how he came to be rescued. I don’t like it – it’s not natural.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “What do you suggest I do, Master? We can’t just snub the Chancellor! Or Padmé, for that matter.”

Qui-Gon waited until he had relieved himself before replying. “We most certainly can. I am certain that Queen Amidala will understand that I am tired and need to return to the Temple.”

“That, my master, is a shameless abuse of your disability.”

“Indeed it is. We should leave it perhaps another half hour or so, so as not to arouse suspicion. You can contact the queen tomorrow and perhaps arrange for Anakin to visit again before she leaves.”

Obi-Wan nodded and, at Qui-Gon’s signal, lifted him back into his chair while Qui-Gon shamelessly misused the Force to pull his underwear and leggings back up.

 

.oOo.

 

Padmé was incredibly gracious about their early departure, as were the majority of her guests. Palpatine was disappointed that his lengthy discussion with Anakin had been curtailed, and was loquacious in his admiration that the boy was flourishing at the Temple after such a poor start in life. Shmi, however, was relieved when Obi-Wan made his apologies to her. Her sharp eyes knew exactly what was what, and her life had left her with a keen sense of when to keep her thoughts to herself and say something diplomatic instead.

Anakin was disappointed, but it was honestly late for him anyway – it was already past the time he would usually be in bed when Qui-Gon had made the decision to leave. He put up a token protest at having to leave the party (or, rather, leave his mother’s side), but he was asleep before they got back to the Temple. Qui-Gon inclined his head towards Anakin when Obi-Wan hesitated, uncertain as to which to favour.

“I will bother a healer,” he said softly. “Thank you for my night of freedom, no matter how unsavoury its ending.”

“We’ll discuss that tomorrow,” Obi-Wan replied, equally softly as he scooped Ani from his seat and settled the child on his hip.

“Indeed. Good night, Obi-Wan.”

“Goodnight, Master.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this has taken so long. I wanted to have at least one chapter in reserve before posting this but the next one is being incredibly elusive (It's all old smarmy-pants' fault).
> 
> Anyway, I felt that I needed to update, and to let you know that I absolutely haven't abandoned this.


	6. Insidious Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which suspicions are very carefully shared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy _osik_ , this fought me all the way. There are some uncomfortable things being discussed in this chapter, in the aftermath of last time.
> 
> -=-=-=-
> 
> Previously: (Read in Tom Kane's voice, like the opening montage of Clone Wars episodes)  
> Queen Padmé Amidala and Shmi Skywalker journeyed to Coruscant to visit with young Padawan Anakin Skywalker and the saviours of Naboo. At a party, Anakin was introduced to Chancellor Palpatine, who took a keen interest in the young Jedi...

Obi-Wan slept poorly, consumed by thoughts that he might have unwittingly put his brother padawan in danger without even noticing. He rose early and meditated in the hope of receiving some kind of answer. However, the Force seemed oddly clouded and reticent to supply a satisfactory answer (or even just an avenue for investigation). It wasn’t something he had ever encountered before. Certainly, Obi-Wan had not gotten answers from the Force before, but he had never felt anything like the foggy wall he had encountered when meditating upon Palpatine and his motives.

He resolved to speak to Qui-Gon about it and see what he thought of it. In the meantime, a quick investigation showed that it was early evening in Theed, and that probably meant that Padmé and Shmi were awake over at their apartments. He placed a call to Padme’s private channel, which was promptly picked up.

Her hair was half-down, with a couple of handmaidens still working behind her. Her makeup was also in the process of being removed.

“Apologies for my appearance, Padawan Kenobi,” she said, meeting his eyes briefly before returning to her task.

“I appear to have chosen an unfortunate time,” he said contritely. “My apologies. I was simply hoping to arrange a meeting later today.”

She dropped her wipe and met his eyes. “Of course,” she said, smiling. “I hope we didn’t tire Master Qui-Gon out too badly?”

“I haven’t seen him yet this morning,” he said diplomatically. As he did so, he noticed Sabé slip into and then out of shot behind Padmé. “I shall pass on your concern when I do.”

“Thank you. I understand that the Temple is in the same time zone as the Senate?”

A reasonable question, and not one that people unfamiliar with Coruscant always thought to ask.

“It is, your highness.”

“That means it’s as early there as it is here,” she scolded. “This is a ridiculous time to be awake if you’re not suffering from travel lag.”

“Indeed. I had a troubled night. A vague sense of ill that the Force refuses to help me pin down.”

“Anakin gets that a lot,” Shmi said from the background. Padmé turned and waved her closer, and she dropped into frame beside the queen. “I hope he’s not being bothered by this?”

Obi-Wan reached out gently, and shook his head. “No, my lady. He is sleeping soundly.”

“Shmi, Obi-Wan wants to arrange a visit,” Padmé explained quickly. “Anakin will have classes this morning, but shall we invite them around for a brunch once he gets out?”

Shmi glanced at (presumably) a chrono. “That gives us a little over eight hours. Presuming you don’t want to be in all your finery, my lady, we could even have a decent amount of sleep between now and then.”

Padmé smiled and turned to Obi-Wan. “I trust you would forgive the oversight, Padawan Kenobi? I’ll confess we haven’t made much of an effort to acclimatise to the times, given that we are heading back to Naboo in a couple of days.”

He chuckled. “You are completely forgiven: I know well the perils of interplanetary travel. And it is always midday somewhere on Coruscant. And midnight.”

Padmé laughed.

“What an excellent excuse, Obi-Wan,” Shmi said, smiling herself. “I must remember it for when Anakin starts using it against you.”

 

.oOo.

 

Obi-Wan spent the two hours before Anakin rose trying surreptitiously to find information about their new chancellor. By all accounts, Palpatine was a perfectly respectable man: he had gone through the same training programme as Padmé, and appeared to have simply preferred to remain in politics than retire and start a family as most Naboo officials did. There were records aplenty, but little in the way of news articles.

All of that was publicly available, but it wasn’t what Obi-Wan was looking for, and he was worried that searching too hard for Judicial records regarding the man might flag up somewhere. It was something that the Jedi were generally allowed access to, but somehow he thought that searches about the chancellor might just get flagged up, and that was something they didn’t need to be dealing with. He would need to get consent from the council before he continued further, and that meant he would have to share his and Qui-Gon’s suspicions with them.

Because he had the feeling that Qui-Gon was right, and there was something deeply wrong about the attentions Palpatine had lavished on Ani – it was above and beyond thanks for saving his planet and his queen. And could he make Anakin understand that he had to be careful?

He suspected, sadly, that yes, Anakin would understand perfectly. While Anakin might have been lacking in certain academic areas, he was more worldly-wise than his fellow padawans. At nine – heck, even at twelve – Obi-Wan had very little idea about anything that went on outside of the Temple. Slavery was something he knew about but only vaguely considered that he might see, let along experience it for himself; sex was a theory, something that happened to make children; sexual predators were completely unknown to him. Prostitution was another thing he had not known about, let alone the fact that some slaves were expected to perform sexual acts on their masters and/or clients for their masters’ profits.

He now knew that all of these things existed in the seedy underbellies of societies (and even occasionally in the upper echelons, in plain sight), and somewhere like Tatooine it was probably common. Obi-Wan had spent a few days as a slave: it was all Anakin had ever known.

He was going to have to find out from Shmi at some point soon just what Anakin had experienced thus far in his harsh life.

 

.oOo.

 

It was a long wait before Obi-Wan could get away to speak to Qui-Gon, given that it was his morning to have his Engineering class. Anakin kicked his ankle (well, shin, but the intention was there) twice because his attention had wandered.

Eventually he was free, and headed straight for the Halls of Healing where he was ushered straight into Qui-Gon’s room.

“Perhaps you can talk some sense into him,” Master Che said bluntly. “He should be resting after exerting himself so much last night.”

“I am hardly exerting myself,” Qui-Gon remarked, not even looking up from the data pad he had swindled from someone. “I have not even left the bed.”

Obi-Wan bowed to Master Che. “I will do my best, master, but you know how stubborn he can be.”

Qui-Gon raised his eyebrows at him as he took a seat, Master Che leaving in a swirl of robes and disapproval. “You can’t tell me you haven’t already done precisely the same thing this morning.”

He turned the pad so that Obi-Wan could clearly see the screen – a familiar article dating to when Palpatine became Naboo’s senator.

Obi-Wan nodded. “And found the same thing you are, I imagine: nothing.”

Qui-Gon drummed his fingers on the edge of the pad. “Correct. Not even so much as a whiff of scandal, which bothers me even more than potentially having found something: no politician is that clean.”

Obi-Wan frowned. He knew one politician who was that clean.

Qui-Gon snorted. “Do you truly think me that naïve?” he asked, the corners of his mouth twitching with amusement. “I can think of one scandal off the top of my head.”

Obi-Wan tried to ignore the fact that his neck and ears were burning. “That’s not exactly in the public domain,” he grumbled. “And it would ruin her position if it ever got there.”

Qui-Gon reached out and ruffled his hair. “No-one will ever hear it from me. Now, what do we do about our current situation?”

Obi-Wan sighed. “Would the council support us in searching the Judicial records?”

Qui-Gon sighed. “Perhaps not, on such little evidence. But we have another avenue open to us, do we not?”

Yes. Yes, they did, and Obi-Wan felt a fool for not having considered it before. And Padmé would have access to records that might not have made it to Judicial yet, considering that the rim-ward planets had a much harder time centralising than those in the core. And there were good reasons for that – no-one had made it easy for them, in the past. While Obi-Wan was not currently Palpatine’s biggest fan, having a chancellor from a rim planet might make life easier for more people.

“I’m taking Anakin to see her and Shmi this afternoon,” he said. “I’ll ask then.”

“Be delicate,” Qui-Gon advised. “Not only is Queen Amidala not much more than a child herself, but she clearly trusts Palpatine. Not only did he champion her during her visit to the Senate during the blockade, but he was one of her biggest supporters during her nomination campaign.”

 

.oOo.

 

Obi-Wan was lucky – he managed to arrange some time alone with the young queen during their visit. Shmi seemed more than happy to oblige them by taking charge of Anakin. Padmé seemed more than a little curious as they excused themselves from the Skywalkers’ company.

“Would you take a walk with me, your grace?” he asked solicitously. “There are some beautiful gardens in the Senate Quarter.”

She glanced at him suspiciously before nodding. “Of course, Master Jedi: that sounds delightful.”

They talked about inconsequential things as they made their way outside: the repairs to Theed; the overtures to the Gungans; Padmé’s family. Only once they had reached the gardens did Obi-Wan feel secure enough to speak. He guided her over to a bench, and watched as Sabé and Eritaé took one nearby, where they would be close at hand should something happen.

“Padmé, this is… This is very awkward, but Qui-Gon and I have some concerns, and I believe that Shmi shares them.” He glanced around nervously – the gardens were deserted, since the senate was in session. “We were all very uncomfortable with the level of attention Chancellor Palpatine afforded Anakin last night.”

She looked taken aback for a moment, before her eyes widened. “You can’t think…!?”

“I’m afraid we do,” he said. “It isn’t normal for a man of that age to lavish so much attention on a ten-year-old boy. However, we have no proof beyond our own unease, and I feel that making any accusations would be contrary to the best interests of the Republic, the Jedi Order, and of Naboo, unless there is something more concrete. The Order and the Republic rely on each other, and to have one of us accuse the new Chancellor of something so heinous would cause a rift. And if we turn out to be overreacting – even though I do not believe that to be the case – people will always have questions. It would damage Palpatine’s career, potentially beyond saving.”

“No smoke without fire,” Padmé murmured thoughtfully. “And Naboo is currently receiving aid in the rebuilding process by Palpatine’s grace. However, Master Jedi, have you considered the consequences of not acting should it transpire that you are correct? That the Order’s relationship with the Republic may be damaged anyway? And Naboo’s?”

Obi-Wan nodded gravely. “I have, your grace. The fallout is likely to be less than that of acting on impulse.”

“I suppose you want me to investigate more discretely than you could? Any complaints that may have been covered up; any children in his vicinity who show signs of having been abused?”

Obi-Wan met her eyes. “I would appreciate that very much, yes.”

“Boys, specifically, I imagine?”

Obi-Wan felt the tiniest tug at the corner of his mouth. “Unless there is something you are hiding despite the gravity of the subject, my lady, I imagine so, yes. Although, I understand that I am an adult male asking this of you, and that I might not be the best confidant, should I turn out to be wrong.”

Padmé pressed a kiss to his cheek and rose to her feet. “He has not so much as laid a finger on me,” she assured him. “I will do as you ask, and I will let you know as soon as possible if I find anything.”

Obi-Wan sighed and rose too. “In a way, I hope you don’t.”

“Me too, Obi-Wan,” she said sadly, turning to leave. “Me too.”


	7. Knighting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the title speaks for itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously
> 
> Chancellor Palpatine's fixation on Anakin has made everyone uneasy. Queen Padmé Amidala has promised to investigate discretely, leaving Jedi Padawan Obi-Wan free to continue training young Anakin in his injured master's stead.

While assured that Padmé would not let him down in this, as she had not let him down on the subject of Anakin’s mother, Obi-Wan felt uneasy about keeping the matter from the Council. With Qui-Gon’s blessing, he informed them, and that surreptitious investigations were already being made. They were unhappy that Obi-Wan had asked her without informing them first, whether he was acting upon Qui-Gon’s suggestion or not, but they all seemed impressed with his reasoning for not involving them (and therefore the Order as a whole).

It turned out to be the right thing, because Chancellor Palpatine contacted them to try and arrange another meeting with Anakin, only to be rebuffed. According to Master Plo’s retelling, Master Windu was very firm on the fact that while they were flattered by his interest in one of their padawans, Anakin needed to concentrate on his lessons in order to catch up to his age-mates. Palpatine had been persistent, but ultimately unsuccessful on both occasions that he made overtures.

After the second, it was Master Windu himself who came to speak with Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, after Anakin had been put to bed for the evening.

“I can’t help but think that you’re right,” he admitted. “His interest in the boy isn’t normal, although I can’t understand why Skywalker, specifically. If he is a predator, then he’s overplaying his hand somewhat in contacting us directly. Particularly as we have declined him once already.”

Qui-Gon shrugged. “Perhaps it is the Jedi aspect?” he suggested. “We already know that we fetch a higher price on the Outer Rim than others of the same species. By dominating a Jedi, it makes such an individual feel more powerful.”

Windu rubbed his temples tiredly. “Perhaps you’re right.”

 

.oOo.

 

A month passed. A month in which Anakin, oblivious to the consternation he was causing on one specific front, fully settled into Temple life and was sparring with his age-mates in Ataru (and wiping the floor with them more often than not; he was going to earn his combat band before long if he kept up this rate of learning). Meanwhile, Obi-Wan had begun studying Soresu with Master Koon. Qui-Gon’s injury could have been an awful lot worse, but he had sustained it in the first place because of the defensive failings of Ataru. Obi-Wan needed to correct that, and he was going to pass on what he learned to both his master and Anakin, to ensure that the same thing couldn’t happen again. Because there was another Sith out there, and Obi-Wan was certain they would end up facing him at some point.

That he found the grounded Soresu suited him more than Ataru had was simply a bonus.

Three months to the day after the Battle of Theed was the moment Qui-Gon put his foot down and demanded that they put a stop to the charade that Obi-Wan was nothing but a padawan. Even if he hadn’t been ready for his Trial before Naboo, even if he hadn’t earned his knighthood in the Old Way by defeating a Sith, he was certainly earning his credentials as a teaching master with how he was overseeing Anakin’s training.

They made as little fuss over the ceremony as the Council would allow for the knighting of the first Jedi in a thousand years to slay a Sith. Obi-Wan, despairing of the attention that was being afforded him, made a great ceremony of handing Qui-Gon his lightsabre for the occasion.

Qui-Gon was appropriately serious about accepting his weapon, and thanking Obi-Wan for ensuring its safe return, but his eyes gleamed with good humour, and Obi-Wan could swear that Yoda was snickering quietly to himself.

His ploy backfired somewhat when Master Plo stepped forward and stated that it wouldn’t be appropriate for anyone to be knighted without a lightsabre on their belt. He offered his own with a gravitas that belied the way he gleamed with suppressed laughter in the Force.

Obi-Wan tried to be serenely grateful, and he _was_ grateful in a way, because he had spent far too much time in the field to be comfortable without a weapon. But he would have rather just got on with the ceremony as quickly as possible and escaped being the centre of attention than had to find some appropriately, diplomatically ceremonial words to thank Master Plo for his kindness, and promise to do no disservice to the blade.

Master Plo took it in excellent humour, as Obi-Wan had known he would. Anakin, a lone padawan in a sea of knights and masters, was clearly laughing behind his hand, and Obi-Wan suspected that whatever Garen was whispering in his ear was not helping any.

But finally he and Qui-Gon were standing face-to-face, and Obi-Wan reached out to take the staff Qui-Gon was trying not to lean on. Once he was relieved of it, Qui-Gon reached out and ran Obi-Wan’s braid through his fingers, marvelling at the bright metallic bronze thread Yoda had insisted he tie it off with rather than the standard red.

Obi-Wan forced himself not to flinch at the flash of light and heat in the corner of his eye, just behind his right ear. And suddenly, the long rope of hair – twelve years’ worth of growth – was coiling neatly into Qui-Gon’s waiting palm. Before it could even be offered to him, Obi-Wan curled Qui-Gon’s fingers over it.

“Thank you, Master. For everything.”

Anakin and Garen rescued him from any further ceremonial nonsense by cheering loudly and rushing him. Garen grabbed Anakin before he could upset Qui-Gon’s precarious balance, and handed him to Obi-Wan while smoothly passing the cane back to Qui-Gon with his other hand.

It probably looked like a practiced manoeuvre, although it very much wasn’t. And Anakin didn’t protest too much about the indignity of being picked up ‘like a kid’, clearly enjoying being able to look everyone in the eye.

“You finally joined us,” Garen crowed, throwing a huge arm over Obi-Wan’s shoulder and teasing at the singed tips where his braid had been for almost half of his life. “Took your time, didn’t you?”

“Maybe he did,” Quin said, joining them, “but I don’t see you with a padawan, Garen.”

“Anakin is Master Qui-Gon’s padawan, aren’t you, Ani?”

Anakin nodded in response to Obi-Wan’s question, earning himself an affectionate smile from Qui-Gon. He was now sat in one of the councillor’s chairs, Obi-Wan noticed. Some kindly soul had pulled it over for him so that he could still interact with everyone.

“But you’re still sticking around, right, Obi-Wan?” he asked plaintively. “You’re not leaving right away?”

Obi-Wan chuckled. “I’m staying for the time being. I don’t think that Master Qui-Gon is quite up to running around after you yet, scamp.”

“Indeed not,” Qui-Gon said, sounding amused. “It will be quite a while, and I will be glad of your help, young Master Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan was so taken aback by his new title that he almost missed Anakin biting his lip in consternation.

“Ani, what’s wrong?”

Anakin shifted on his hip, clearly uncomfortable and trying to shift away.

Obi-Wan excused them from the group with a sweeping glance around, and swiftly exited the Council Chamber. Outside, he set Anakin down and knelt before him.

“Anakin?”

Ani chewed on his bottom lip for a moment before speaking.

“Do I… Do I have to call you ‘Master’?”

And suddenly it hit him like a ton of bricks – that last thing that occasionally seemed to be throwing Anakin off about Temple life.

“No” he said emphatically. “No, my little brother, you do not have to. And I’ll talk to Qui-Gon too.”

He dragged Ani into a reassuring hug. As the boy melted into him, he wondered how, given his musings about what Anakin must have experienced in life thus far, it had never occurred to him before now that ‘master’ had an entirely different meaning. No, Obi-Wan would never ask his brother to use that title for him, and he was sure that Qui-Gon would understand too.

He pondered approaching the Council about it too, to plead leniency for Anakin. Would they be willing to make another concession for the boy? He thought it unlikely of the body as a whole, but perhaps individual members such as Master Plo and Master Gallia would understand. Perhaps Master Billaba too – she was young, not so set in her ways.

Anakin’s fingers ran over the stubble behind his ear.

“Did it hurt?”

“Not a bit,” he said, relaxing his arms now that Ani was obviously more stable. “It was a bit hot, but not painful. Are you ready to go back in?”

Anakin nodded and offered him a brave smile. Obi-Wan put a supportive hand on Ani’s shoulder and, side-by-side, they re-entered the chamber, throwing themselves on the mercy of the crowd. He only wished that Siri could have been there too, to alleviate the nonsense: she was resourceful; she would have found a way.


	8. Tooka Clan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Obi-Wan and Anakin leave Coruscant for their first mission together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously
> 
> Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn, grievously injured on Naboo, has recovered enough from his injuries to stand for a few minutes. In celebration, he cut the braid of his older padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Obi-Wan had very little time to appreciate that his knighthood was beginning rather unconventionally. Even though he technically had more freedom in his training of Anakin now that he was a knight, he still ensured that Qui-Gon was involved at every turn – it only seemed right, since Anakin was Qui-Gon’s padawan and Obi-Wan was only fostering him for the time being.

Time not spent with Anakin and/or Qui-Gon split his attention three ways: continuing his surreptitious investigations into Palpatine, trying to find out what was going on with Siri, and speaking to Padmé (about both of those things, mostly, if he was honest). Neither investigation seemed to be yielding fruit, frustratingly. He needed a distraction.

Tooka Clan headed out on their Gathering three weeks after Obi-Wan’s knighting, with two additional members. The kids were a little younger than Ani, but he knew them from his literature class, and was getting on well with all seven in the group; particularly with Jaia, a bald, purple-eyed Zabrak girl who was already taller than him.

Obi-Wan took a step back from the proceedings, not wanting to change this experience for the younglings. Having a knight along was unusual (but not entirely unheard of: sometimes knights did take advantage of the trips when they couldn’t find a crystal in-Temple to suit them), and Anakin could see something normal about his new life.

Yoda was amused by Obi-Wan’s skulking about the ship, but he allowed it. Their supervising padawan, a Pantoran boy named Tuni Mithren, however, seemed a little perturbed by this unusual occurrence: not only was Obi-Wan tagging along, but Anakin – another padawan – too.

Ani had left his training sabre back on Coruscant, as was only right, which helped Obi-Wan’s case when he collared Padawan Mithren.

“I hope you don’t think that mine and Anakin’s presence here is a reflection of anyone’s opinion of your abilities, or your authority?”

His eyes widened and he flinched, just a touch, before schooling his expression appropriately.

“No, Master Kenobi. Of course not.”

Obi-Wan suppressed the urge to smile as he remembered adopting that same bland tone and facial expression regularly when dealing with Qui-Gon, early in his apprenticeship.

Inspiration struck, and he unclipped the lightsabre from his belt. He held it out to Tuni, who stared, confusion seeping through his proper, emotionless mask.

“I lost my lightsabre in battle,” he said by way of explanation. “My master has done me the honour of permitting me to use his blade while he is recuperating.

“It would be inappropriate for me to take this into the crystal cave, don’t you think?”

“Er, yes, master.”

“Would you honour us both by guarding Master Jinn’s weapon while I seek my crystal?”

Tuvi flushed a deep indigo as he placed a small hand on the large hilt.

“Of course, master. I… I will guard it carefully, and take no action to dishonour it.”

Obi-Wan smiled as Tuvi carefully hooked the blade next to his own. He bowed to the youngster.

“Thank you, Padawan Mithren.”

 

.oOo.

 

It took Yoda less than a minute to shuffle in. Obi-Wan was disappointed – he had expected him within half that time.

“Very diplomatic that was,” he commented by way of greeting. “Much bolstered, young Padawan Tuvi’s spirits are.”

Obi-Wan went to tug on his braid, caught himself, and ran his hand through his shaggy hair instead.

“That’s what I was hoping,” he admitted. “He doesn’t deserve to doubt himself just because he’s the one who ended up supervising an unusual Gathering.”

Yoda observed him carefully for a long few moments.

“A very wise master you will be,” he said eventually. “Yes, a wise master.”

 

.oOo.

 

Ilum was as frigid as Obi-Wan remembered. Anakin was immediately miserable, and Obi-Wan was glad that he had not only forewarned his brother, but had also sourced a set of cold-climate gear for him before they left. The Bothan twins’ had doubled in size as they fluffed their coats against the bracing chill.

Obi-Wan lurked at the back, not interfering as Yoda and Tuvi introduced the younglings and Anakin to Ilum’s wonders, and its perils.

When they had all ventured into the cave, Obi-Wan settled to meditate. With his mind cleared, the path to his crystal was clear. He got to his feet smoothly and headed into the cave. On his way, he passed a trio of younglings – a human boy and two Twi’leks – who immediately started to follow him.

He turned on his heel and they pulled up sharply.

“This is my path. Are you certain it is also yours?”

To their credit, they each considered it before any of them spoke.

“How will be know, Master Kenobi?” the green-skinned Twi’lek girl – Zana, he recalled – asked.

He found himself smiling at her, recalling similar uncertainly last time he had been here.

“You must ask that of the Force,” he told them, “and trust when it guides your actions. Here, you might all have different paths, different challenges you must face.”

The two boys – Tian and Iolo – looked hesitant once more, as if they would much prefer to stick together.

“Don’t be afraid of taking time to meditate,” he advised. “The Force will guide your path to safety.”

The pair of them nodded solemnly and closed their eyes. Their female companion, however, stared up at him, unblinking.

“My path is yours,” she said, and everything about her radiated certainty.

“Very well, Zana. I will be glad of your company on our quest. Tian, Iolo, may the Force be with you.

 

.oOo.

 

Zana turned out to be a surprisingly good companion – a solid, steady presence at his elbow. She kept close, but only, he suspected, because he was warm and her lekku were cold.

He held out his arm and she took it as an invitation to tuck right into him, ending up wedged right against his body, his right hand resting gently on her stubby little right lek.

“Thank you, Master Kenobi,” she said properly, but Obi-Wan could hear the smile in her voice.

“You are very welcome, Zana. Have you had any further guidance from the Force?”

“No, Master,” she answered. “Only that I should walk with you. And you’re warm – I’m not leaving now.”

Obi-Wan laughed at her honest audacity, and they continued to walk together, following the path the Force set for them. After a few minutes, they reached a small canyon, narrow enough that it could be jumped, but only with the assistance of the Force. Zana would be able to manage just fine if she had mastered the skill, but a glance down at the quivering ball of uncertainty told him that she had not.

“I… I can see it, Master Kenobi,” she said, pointing to a formation just a few feet beyond the ravine, and many feet below where his own was twinkling from near the ceiling of the cave. She sounded apprehensive.

“Fear not, young one,” he said, stroking her lek soothingly. “Mine is all the way up there.”

He pointed to it, knowing that she couldn’t see it shine the way he could, just as he couldn’t see hers clearly. Inspiration struck, because he knew this challenge was something he could not help her with – she would have to jump by herself.

“Tell you what: I’ll race you. Last one back here has to make hot chocolate for everyone once we’re back on the ship.”

Zana would win easily if she could conquer her issue with the two Force-assisted leaps she would have to make – a skill she would definitely have been taught before being allowed to come to Ilum. Instead of giving her an opportunity to think, to decline his wager, he jumped, landing neatly on the other side.

He glanced back to see her consternation melt into outrage.

“Master Kenobi, you big cheat!”

“I have a long climb,” he said, blinking innocently at her as he indicated his crystal once more. “I need all the head start I can get.”

With that, he turned to the wall and, with the Force guiding him, he began the thirty foot vertical ascent.

He was almost halfway, and beginning to get a little concerned that his gamble wasn’t going to pay off, when there was a soft ‘whump’ below him. He allowed himself to smile as his new kyber crystal grew ever-closer.

He had just closed his hand around the crystal, which resonated happily with a cool, blue tone, when Zana shouted up to him:

“Come on Master Obi-Wan: I’m cold and you promised hot chocolate.”

He looked down to see her back across the ravine, waving a tiny crystal at him. He tucked his own into his belt pouch, chuckling.

“So I did, you little imp. I’ll be right down.”


	9. The Twin Crystal Mystery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a mystery develops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously:
> 
> Newly knighted Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi, his fostered padawan Anakin Skywalker, and a group of Jedi younglings have journeyed to the frozen world of Ilum to Gather precious kyber crystals for their new lightsabres.

Anakin emerged from the cave a few minutes after Obi-Wan and Zana returned, looking confused.

Despite not wanting to interfere in the process, Obi-Wan felt his brother needed him. “Anakin, are you all right?”

Ani nodded and held out his hand as Obi-Wan knelt before him. Two crystals sat in his palm and Obi-Wan sighed. Although he and Qui-Gon regularly practiced with two blades, as Ataru practitioners, they (and every other Ataru practitioner they knew) used training blades as their second. Jar’Kai itself wasn’t something Obi-Wan had considered yet for Anakin: most full-time practitioners of the discipline showed early signs that they were better suited for two blades, and Anakin hadn’t.

It wasn’t a discipline that Obi-Wan was particularly skilled in himself, and he didn’t know anyone else at the Temple who was either; not since Master Micah had died. He thought, though, that Master Drallig’s padawan was learning: perhaps the Combat Master would agree to a second student?

“This one…” Ani said slowly, carefully nudging one of the pair with a fingertip as whispers began among the returned initiates, “it’s not for now.”

What? That didn’t make sense.

“The Force says it’s for later, but I can practice with it now if I want.”

It still made no sense, but it looked like Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon were going to have to break out their training blades and brush up on their Jar’Kai.

Obi-Wan forced himself to smile. “I know it’s frustrating when the Force is mysterious, but its intention will become clear eventually.” He closed Anakin’s hand gently over the crystals. “It looks like we’ll be modifying your lightsabre training somewhat.”

 

.oOo.

 

Obi-Wan fulfilled his promise to Zana and made hot chocolate for everyone (and a cup of Paricha for the Mon Calamari Iina, who couldn’t stomach milk), then retired to his quarters to allow the remainder of the initiation to take place. Master Huyang didn’t stock hilts appropriate for adult human males, anyway; his crystal would have to keep until they returned to the Temple.

He settled to meditate, his mind still wrestling with Anakin’s confusing statement about his second crystal. Why would he need a second blade to practice with, but not actually _need_ it now?

An answer presented itself somewhat cryptically: a vision of a tiny, orange-skinned Togruta youngling with enormous blue eyes. Obi-Wan was positive that she was the recent foundling Master Plo had told him about – the one who had been targeted by bounty hunters on Shili. As he observed, she grew until she was a confident teen sporting an akul-tooth headdress, padawan beads, and twin lightsabres.

If Obi-Wan wasn’t mistaken, Ahsoka was a little on the old side for being brought to the Temple – she was currently three or four Standard, from what he understood. That meant that she wasn’t ever going to be an age-mate of Anakin’s, and that she would be apprenticed long before Ani would be ready for a padawan of his own. Perhaps he would mentor her as a senior padawan? It wasn’t unheard of, although not to the extent that Obi-Wan had with Anakin. That had been an extreme, unique situation.

Perhaps Ahsoka would be Obi-Wan’s padawan? That was a possibility, and Obi-Wan was certain that he would still be a part of Qui-Gon and Anakin’s lives, given the unusual start to Ani’s apprenticeship. It could be called attachment, he supposed, but Obi-Wan didn’t want to take that stable relationship away from his brother. Ani needed stability in his life in a different way to most Jedi – he had never known peace like Temple-raised younglings did; he had never been safe before.

Unfortunately, the Force didn’t seem to want to answer any further, but at least Obi-Wan’s mind was more at rest than it had been earlier: there was a Jar’Kai practitioner in their future who wasn’t Anakin. The best they could do now was be certain they were ready to assist her when the time came.

He decided to poke his head into the workshop, and was immediately accosted by a gaggle of excited initiates eagerly showing off their brand new lightsabre hilts.

“Have you ignited them yet?” he asked with a grin.

Zana, clearly the de facto leader of the group, shook her head. “We’re waiting for Tsula and Ani to finish, then we’re all going to do it together.”

Obi-Wan was surprised that Ani hadn’t built his pair of hilts within the first minute of being let loose in the workshop. He looked over the heads of his audience, spied the Bothan girl being guided by Tuvi, her impatient twin lurking nearby, then saw his brother’s fair head bent over a workstation, and him tweaking something by hand.

Obi-Wan went and knelt beside him. Assistance at this point was permissible: many initiates struggled with their first sabres, and it was best that accidents didn’t happen. An incorrectly configured lightsabre could overheat or even explode, so it was imperative that young initiates were supervised carefully at this stage and assisted where necessary.

“Ani?”

Anakin barely blinked at the interruption, and kept his focus on the hardware in his hand. “The emitters need adjusting.”

Huyang, lurking between the two occupied benches, sniffed. It was a peculiar affectation for a droid to have acquired.

“You chose all of the components yourself,” he said prissily. “And everything is in working order.”

“‘Working’,” Ani repeated without looking up. “Not ‘perfect’.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan scolded, scandalised. Anakin wasn’t being accusatory; simply factual in his tone. But that wasn’t the point.

“Guided by the Force, young Padawan Skywalker is,” Yoda said, and Obi-Wan was fairly sure he was making a subtle dig at the droid, who was even older than him. “Trust in his skills we must have. Earned his blue band he has.”

Master Huyang made a derisive sound and turned away to watch was Tsula was doing.

Once the bulk of the attention was elsewhere, Anakin whispered: “I picked the pieces I knew needed a bit of work. I can fix them, and the initiates needed the perfect components.”

Obi-Wan tried and failed to not smile at his little brother’s selflessness.

“You couldn’t just be happy with having the extra challenge of a second lightsabre, could you?” he said, brushing his fingers lightly over the two crystals, sat in pride of place.

Anakin grinned up at him, the first time he had looked away from his work. “Nah. They gave a mechanic free run of the electronics: what did they expect?”

Obi-Wan covered his mouth hastily to stop himself from laughing. That would be an inappropriate example to set to the young initiates.

Ani turned back to his work, and within a minute or so declared that he was done. He lay the emitter down beside its companion piece, and closed his eyes. Obi-Wan watched as the Force swirled and arranged everything just so, so that the twin hilts came together perfectly, and landed in Anakin’s upturned palms. Almost ceremoniously, he held them out to Obi-Wan, just as a padawan should present a new lightsabre – or, indeed, new lightsabres – to their master, for a final once-over, to make sure that it was functional and wouldn’t explode upon ignition.

Master Huyang tutted, but Anakin was a padawan, included on the Gathering or not. Honestly, it should have been Qui-Gon that did this, but at least Obi-Wan was now officially Anakin’s fostering master, and he could do this for his brother.

“They feel just fine, Ani,” Obi-Wan said, handing them back. “And they’re very nicely balanced too. They’ll work well for Jar’Kai.”

Just as the whole group’s expectations were due to fall on Tsula’s shoulder’s, the Bothan girl gave a triumphant sound as her own sabre finally slotted together. Suddenly, all eight of the group had arranged themselves into an arc around Huyang and they ignited their blades for the first time.


	10. Housing Crisis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Qui-Gon is released from the Healers' Ward, and an unlikely Jar'Kai teacher is recruited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um... Sorry? I have no excuse. RL has kicked my ass recently :( I hate not having the spoons to write.
> 
> I wanted to have a few chapters of this in the wings before I posted again. I don't, but I thought I should probably post the two that I do have.

Obi-Wan had always known, right from the very start, that the day would come that Qui-Gon would be released from the Halls of Healing. He had always known that he was living in Qui-Gon’s quarters, sleeping in Qui-Gon’s bed, and that one day Qui-Gon would need it back. But somehow the day of Qui-Gon’s release - or, rather, the day that Master Che got heartily sick of his continued presence - crept up and took him unawares.

Upon seeing the look on Obi-Wan’s face, Qui-Gon graciously said he would take quarters elsewhere; that since Obi-Wan was still taking care of Anakin, it made more sense for Obi-Wan to stay put. But Obi-Wan would have none of it, and spent an afternoon sorting things out with the quartermaster. As it turned out, Garen didn’t have a roommate yet, and he was only too happy to share the second half of his quarters with his crèche-mate.

It was a strange adjustment to make - Obi-Wan had spent twelve years in Qui-Gon’s quarters, and had only ever lived in the crèche before that. To suddenly be on his own - with Garen’s gleefully dubious influence - was disconcerting. But all in all it didn’t make a great deal of difference to their daily lives: Garen went off every day to train with his fellow pilots, or to ferry field Jedi to their various assignments, and Obi-Wan met with Qui-Gon in the mornings to plan the day ahead and discuss the various goings-on in the Temple or the galaxy at large. They would both meet with Anakin for lunch, and afterwards they would train. With Qui-Gon now free to observe, if not quite participate yet when it came to the physical aspects, Obi-Wan felt less pressure in the sessions.

Of course Anakin, with childish innocence, felt the need to mention the fact that Obi-Wan seemed more relaxed, and he had absolutely no excuse to give. Qui-Gon just smothered a smile behind his hand, the traitor.

“I’m just glad that Master Qui-Gon is finally well enough be here with us,” he said finally, after a few seconds of fumbling for an answer that wouldn’t be misinterpreted by Anakin. The boy was exceptionally well settled into Temple life by now, but he would be devastated by any implication that Obi-Wan was still going to leave eventually. It was bad enough that Obi-Wan had moved out, and he was still in their quarters most of the time because of Anakin’s training and the fact he didn’t quite feel it fair for a ten-year-old to have to take on the task of helping Qui-Gon finish dressing and putting on his boots. By now Qui-Gon could manage to wash and dress in the basics, but Jedi tunics were complicated affairs and not for the faint-hearted. Or those with serious abdominal injuries, as it transpired.

Fortunately, his desperate answer seemed to make sense to Ani, who beamed. “Me too. I like being able to show him how much you’ve taught me. It’ll be even cooler when Master Qui-Gon can spar with us: I kinda want to see how he does all those Ataru flips.”

Qui-Gon chuckled appreciatively. “You are not the first person to wonder, padawan,” he admitted.

“It’s just… you’re _so_ tall! Ataru’s for little people.”

“So I am often told,” Qui-Gon said.

“Your master likes being perverse,” a new voice said from the door to the salle. Garen filled it, grinning. “My master always said that Master Qui-Gon did things just because others said he shouldn’t be able to. Have you got room for one more?”

Obi-Wan found himself considering the casual request with more care than it would appear to deserve while Qui-Gon responded to the accusation levelled at him (“Micah knew me so very well - who am I to contradict his wise words?” “Not sure I’ve ever heard him called ‘wise’ before.” “And you likely never shall again.”).

“Garen, how long has it been since you used a shoto?” Obi-Wan asked suddenly, incongruously.

Garen eyed him warily. “I keep it up in katas,” he admitted. “Seems like a nice way to remember Master Micah. Why?”

“Anakin needs someone who can teach him Jar’Kai, and it’s not something I ever really tried,” Obi-Wan admitted.

“And your master used to laugh at me whenever I did,” Qui-Gon added. “I was quite firmly advised to keep to one blade in general combat or risk self-decapitation. I took that advice - it would be an ignominious way to expire.”

Garen considered it while grinning at Qui-Gon’s explanation, then nodded, surprisingly solemnly. “How about it, kid? You okay with having a third master?”

Anakin grinned. “Since it’s you, _Master Garen_.”

Garen paled. “Nope. Knock that off, right now, or I change my mind.”

 

.oOo.

 

Garen’s appearance that day turned out to be fortuitous, since he had a lot more skill with two blades than had he let on, and walked Anakin through the revised katas easily enough. And Obi-Wan kept Anakin company in stumbling through them, muscle memory forgetting to adapt to the second blade so many times it was embarrassing. But that was why having Garen do this was a good thing - although his friend didn’t carry a second blade, unlike Master Micah, he was well versed in its use and seemed to be enjoying passing the skill on.

And of course, it would become exceptionally useful when young Ahsoka joined their family, however and whenever that happened.

Living with Garen was actually nice – it gave Obi-Wan a space that was truly his own again, somewhere he could escape to at the end of the day to unwind and sort out his conflicted feelings regarding Anakin’s ongoing apprenticeship. The day was coming ever nearer when Qui-Gon would be capable of taking over Anakin’s training, and that Obi-Wan would get put back onto the mission rotation. He found he didn’t like that idea _at all_ : the last few months had become… not comfortable as such because it was all because of Qui-Gon’s awful injury, but Obi-Wan had discovered such a purpose in training Anakin and being there for his brother padawan that it felt wrong just to let it all go. Was he ready for his own padawan already?

_No_ , he realised almost instantly, because the thought terrified him. Anakin was one thing - a known entity, as it were. But going and taking a child from the crèche was another entirely. And that thought immediately made him feel horrible, because he had been in that situation himself thirteen years ago, waiting for a master who never came.

Perhaps he should look into whether there were any Initiates due to age out after all, because as much as the idea of a padawan other than Anakin scared him, worse would be the guilt if he let another worthy candidate age out because of his misgivings.

Before he could act on the impulse, however, the comm unit chimed. It was Padmé, looking grim.

He didn’t need to be told why she was calling. “What have you found?”


End file.
